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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28440939">slow dance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/inmylife/pseuds/inmylife'>inmylife</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Friends at the Table (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(as much as it can be friends to lovers in only 3k), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Season: Marielda, Trapped In Elevator, it doesn't matter which hitchcock is which they show up for like three seconds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:15:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,362</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28440939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/inmylife/pseuds/inmylife</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Castille and Maelgwyn get stuck in an elevator.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charter Castille/Maelgwyn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>slow dance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>[politely knocks on door of friends at the table fandom] hi i'm EXTREMELY new here i haven't properly written a het ship in ages but there's that bit in the final arc of marielda when they're in the elevator and maelgwyn says "i didn't come here to dance, castille," and this just kind of happened??????</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maelgwyn’s nervous. Castille can tell. He’s been nervous about this since he first got asked to do it and he’s been nervous about it since yesterday night when he texted the groupchat begging for opinions on what tie to wear and he’s been nervous about it since Castille walked up to him outside the Marielda Enterprises building with two iced coffees in hand and he’s nervous now as they finally make to go in. </p><p>“Deep breath,” she half-teases him. Maelgwyn makes a face - he’s supposed to be confidence alive, Castille isn’t supposed to need to tell him to take a deep breath, or at least that’s what she thinks he’s thinking anyway - but he does it. </p><p>She’d gotten dressed up just for this. Just for the act of walking him into the conference room and hanging out in the lobby until he finishes. Houndstooth pencil skirt, white blouse, blazer, hair in a neat braided bun. She’s wearing tights, which she almost never does. And she’s wearing high heels. Castille keeps her stride matched to Maelgwyn’s as their shoes click click click across the marble floor, her stilettos and the heels of his dress shoes. Backs straight, heads held high. </p><p>Castille chances a look over at Maelgwyn. He could so easily be one or both of his fathers, in his suit, carrying his fancy little laptop and a manila folder full of handouts. The iced coffee kind of ruins the look, though. Oh well. She laughs to herself and takes a quick sip of her own. </p><p>The Marielda building - Maelgwyn’s fathers’ building - is sleek and shiny and clean. Everything is white or black or some kind of metal. According to Maelgwyn, it’s really very different from the kind of stuff his dads prefer in their actual home, but Castille’s never been to Maelgwyn’s childhood home because <em> when and why </em>, so privately her mental images of Samothes and Samot are inextricable from this building and the suits they wear when in it. </p><p>She has a similar mental image of Maelgwyn, too, although less in the she-never-sees-him-without-cuff-links way of it and more because of how business-<em> minded </em> he is about everything, and that mental image is almost indistinguishable from his reflection in the too-shiny doors of the row of elevators. He reaches out to press the “up” button, but Castille gets there faster. His hand freezes, and she looks up at him and smiles.</p><p>“Whatever, Castille,” he says as the doors open. </p><p>She rolls her eyes. “Lighten up, Maelgwyn. I know, big day big day, but that doesn’t mean you get to be <em> mean </em> to me.” </p><p>She’s not actually that injured about it. Maelgwyn is just like this.</p><p>The elevator starts to move. They go up a little bit, and then… it just stops. </p><p>Castille and Maelgwyn turn to look at each other. Both their eyes widen.</p><p>Castille pushes the “open door” button. Nothing happens. Then, she pushes the button again, just to be sure. And then a third time. </p><p>“Shit,” Maelgwyn sighs behind her. </p><p>Probably, she should be calling the fire department or someone to get them out of here, but instead Castille opens the group chat. </p><p>
  <b> <em>the six (but there’s actually six of us)</em> </b>
</p><p><em> cat-stille: </em>hey guess who’s trapped in an elevator lmao</p><p><em> sige “a small gang” coleburn: </em> it’s you and maelgwyn, isn’t it.</p><p><em> aubrey!!!!! </em>: when you say “trapped in an elevator” you mean???</p><p><em> thing one: </em> i think she means trapped in an elevator, aubrey</p><p><em> cat-stille </em>: i mean “the elevator is stopped and the doors don’t open”</p><p><em> aubrey!!!!!: </em> oh yeah that’s definitely trapped in an elevator. have you called building maintenance</p><p>Castille looks up from her phone. “Aubrey says to call maintenance,” she informs Maelgwyn. </p><p>Maelgwyn scowls. “I <em> know that </em>,” he tells her, glaring. “I’m doing it now. See?” He waves his phone towards her face. </p><p>She doesn’t look at it long enough to see if what he’s dialing is actually maintenance. “Okay, okay.”</p><p><em> cat-stille: </em> he says he’s doing it</p><p><em> aubrey!!!!!: </em> there is also a button in the elevator i think. i have not been in the marielda building in a while</p><p><em> thing two: </em> aubrey there are lots of buttons in an elevator</p><p><em> aubrey!!!!!: </em> one that calls maintenance if the elevator gets stuck!!! or if there’s a fire!!!</p><p><em> cat-stille: </em> maelgwyn is calling them with his phone, so i think there’s no need. thanks though.</p><p>Something else occurs to her, and she looks up from her phone. “Did you, um. Should you call your dad?”</p><p>Maelgwyn sighs, again. “Yes. I should. I’ll… I’ll do that.” He grimaces. </p><p><em> aubrey!!!!!: </em>is maelgwyn okay?????? i know he was super nervous!!!!!!</p><p><em> cat-stille: </em> yeah he’s definitely very stressed out. </p><p>“Stop talking about me in the group chat,” Maelgwyn says to Castille over the sound of his phone ringing. </p><p><em> sige “a small gang” coleburn: </em> aubrey there isn’t a fire.</p><p>“We’re not,” says Castille, because technically this is now true. </p><p><em> aubrey!!!!!: </em>i never said there was a fire!!!!!! </p><p><em> thing two: </em> but what if there was. suddenly. a fire</p><p><em> thing one: </em> a fire!</p><p><em> cat-stille: </em> i think out of the six of us maelgwyn and i are the least likely to start a fire </p><p><em> sige “a small gang” coleburn: </em> well i think everyone in this friend group is equally likely to commit arson.</p><p><em> aubrey!!!!!: </em> i do not set fires on purpose i set fires on accident!! while doing chemistry!! it’s different!!</p><p><em> cat-stille: </em> okay i’m muting this.</p><p>She sighs and puts her phone away. Enough of that for now. “Everything alright? Nobody’s angry?”</p><p>Maelgwyn shakes his head. “No. The maintenance people might not be here for a bit.” He glares at the elevator buttons. “There’s some other kind of problem in the basement and they aren’t sure when they’ll be able to get us out.”</p><p>“Like…” That’s not ideal. She stares at him. “Like, it could be hours?”</p><p>He nods grimly.</p><p>“Yeah, okay.” Castille kicks off her heels one after the other. If they're going to be in this elevator for who knows how long she's not doing it in four inch heels. </p><p>She eyes Maelgwyn, whose jaw is set and whose shoulders are tense. “...Are you alright?” </p><p>Maelgwyn slides down to sit in the corner of the elevator. “I just don’t need this today, that’s all. I’m ready to do the presentation, I just… dislike the delay.” </p><p>“You’re nervous,” Castille observes, although she’s less observing it and more trying to get him to admit it. </p><p>“No,” Maelgwyn snaps. “What did I just say? I dislike holding people up. This presentation needs to get done. There are… important people, upstairs, waiting, and it will reflect badly on my fathers and on Marielda if I’m late.” </p><p>“Okay,” says Castille. She raises her eyebrows as she looks down at him, his eyes so angry as to burn a hole through the elevator door. </p><p>“Castille.”</p><p>“No, no, no.” She takes a long sip of her coffee, and she secretly enjoys the face Maelgwyn makes at the noise of it. “No, you’re right.” </p><p>He hadn’t necessarily lied. Castille knows that Maelgwyn doesn’t like to keep people waiting (including her, when they have wine night), and that the people upstairs waiting for Maelgwyn’s presentation on whatever architectural innovation Samothes and Primo have thought up this time are indeed probably very important. </p><p>He redirects his gaze up at her. “I’m right? If I’m right, you’ll stop making that judgmental face at me.”</p><p>Castille raises her eyebrows, smiling sweetly, and sips her coffee again. “You should drink yours,” she adds on, pointedly. “It’ll melt.”</p><p>He goes back to glaring at the elevator door, but he reaches out a hand for his coffee. Castille is at least a little bit satisfied with that, she thinks, so she’ll give him the reward of sitting down beside him. She doesn’t slide down with the same nonchalance he had, though. A little more risky to do that in her tights and skirt. </p><p>“...So,” she starts, after a moment. “This presentation. You could, I don’t know, practice on me.”</p><p>No response. Okay, sure. Figures that he wouldn’t want to talk about the presentation he’s currently late for. </p><p>“You could… tell me some unrelated fun facts about architecture?” </p><p>Still nothing. It’s not like Maelgwyn to be this quiet. </p><p>“Okay. Uh, well…” Castille wracks her brain for something <em> she </em> can talk about, instead. “So, the other day I went to the new coffee shop down the street from Coral’s apartment-”</p><p>“Castille. Please.” </p><p>Maelgwyn sounds angry. Like, genuinely angry. He doesn’t usually talk like this, not to her. </p><p>“Fine,” she half-whispers. “I’ll wait.”</p><p>Castille waits. Castille waits perfectly quietly, shifting her position a few times, checking the time on her phone, mostly finishing her coffee (Maelgwyn doesn’t touch his). In college, she’d been able to fully zone out, especially during finals week - or maybe zone in was a better way of putting it, fixating so fully on whatever paper or problem set she had due that she barely realized once five hours had passed and everyone else had left the library. If only she could do that now. Unfortunately, that ability seemed to have left her after graduating.</p><p>So she just waits. </p><p>And she waits.</p><p>And she waits.</p><p>“Alright,” says Castille finally, standing up. “We need to do… something. It’s been fifteen minutes of sitting quietly in the elevator and I can’t just shut off like that anymore. If you won’t talk to me and we don’t know how long we’ll be in here we need to find something to do.” </p><p>“Like what?” Maelgwyn asks. </p><p>She gestures towards his computer, next to him on the ground. “We could watch a movie-”</p><p>“This is my <em> work computer</em>,” he cuts her off. </p><p>“...Right.” Castille finds it a little ridiculous that the Marielda wi-fi has as many restrictions on it as a high school network. They have <em> YouTube </em> blocked, for heaven’s sake. Maelgwyn’s complained about this himself enough times that Castille should have remembered this. “We could… we could listen to music?”</p><p>Maelgwyn sighs. “Castille…” </p><p>“Maelgwyn,” she responds. “Come on.” Castille isn’t sure what putting on music in the elevator is going to do, besides maybe giving them some background noise, but it’s an idea and so she’s latching onto it. She pulls up Spotify. “What do you want to listen to? I really don’t care.”</p><p>“Castille, really.” He stands, but only to lean against the wall and cross his arms at her. He’s always been contrary, but there’s rarely any bite.</p><p>She shrugs. “Fine, whatever.” For lack of a better idea, she types “dance” into the search bar and taps the first result without even looking at it. The first song that comes on is Whitney Houston. “I Wanna Dance With Somebody”. Sure, that makes sense. Castille balances her phone on the elevator railing, speaker facing out, and holds her arms out to Maelgwyn. “Come on, dance with me.” </p><p>He just looks at her, deadpan. “I didn’t come here to dance, Castille.” </p><p>“Neither of us <em> came </em> here to dance, but we’re stuck in an elevator with no idea when we’ll be getting out so we might as well have fun while we’re here.” She continues offering him a hand. He continues to stare at her as though she’s been possessed. </p><p>No? Fine. Castille dances for herself in the elevator, bouncing to the beat of the music, but after the first chorus the awkwardness of doing this alone while Maelgwyn eyes her with exasperation sets in and she stops. </p><p>“You’re no fun today,” she mutters, as the music continues. </p><p>He rolls his eyes. “I’m not <em> supposed </em> to be. I’m supposed to be giving a presentation to the Memoriam Board of Trustees right now, and I’m not supposed to be fun while I’m doing that. I’m supposed to be <em> convincing</em>.” </p><p>“But you’re not giving the pres- oh, never mind,” Castille huffs. Bringing up his presentation and how he’s late to it isn’t smart, and even though he’s the one who brought it up this time Castille should still try to be the adult in the situation.  </p><p>“No, say it,” Maelgwyn prods her as the song changes. “Tell me.”</p><p>“Fine,” she sighs. “I just… you’re not even giving the presentation right now, they know it’s not your fault you’re late, no one should really mind? If it were your father or Primo no one would care. So… I know you’re stressed, but -”</p><p>“I’m <em> not </em> stressed, Castille!” Maelgwyn bites back. Castille fights the urge to roll her eyes. “And maybe no one would mind if it were my father or Primo, but they <em> aren’t here </em>. They’re on the other side of the country right now, which is why we’re in this situation to begin with. The Memoriam College Board of Trustees don’t know me like they know my father. This is - I’m just - I -”</p><p>Castille’s mild annoyance is replaced with confusion as Maelgwyn continues to cut himself off. He doesn’t talk like this. She’s never heard him talk like this. </p><p>He sinks to his knees. Concerned, she follows him down. “Maelgwyn?” she whispers, once they’re both on the floor again. </p><p>“Fine,” he says, eyes closed. “You get what you want. I’m - I’m nervous.”</p><p>Castille has to turn her head to look at the other side of the elevator, so if he looks at her he won’t see her eyes widen in shock. </p><p>“And I don’t want to look nervous in front of the trustees,” Maelgwyn continues. “Or - or you. I don’t want to look nervous in front of you, Castille.” </p><p>“But you <em> know </em> me,” she replies, confused. “I know <em> you </em>. I know you better than - than a lot of people.”</p><p>“That’s just it.” Something in his voice, a softness that hasn’t been there all day, starts to awaken something in Castille. It’s the part of her that thinks about being something more with him. She grimaces. <em> Not now </em>, she thinks. “You’re - you know me in ways other people don’t. I think about you differently. Castille, I-”</p><p>She turns back. He’s looking right at her. Something slots into place. </p><p>Their eyes, locked. It’s like all of time is contained in the space between them. Whoever looks away first would shatter something. Castille can barely hear the soft piano chords of the song over her thoughts, except she doesn’t think she’s having any thoughts. All of her, all of her presence, is focused on Maelgwyn and the warmth of his body and breath and the fact that both of them are frozen, afraid to break whatever fragile, electrified moment this is. </p><p>Now that this is here, now that it’s in existence, they can’t ignore it any longer. Castille can’t brush off his innuendo with “oh, we’re friends, that’s just how he is,” and likewise she won’t be able to run her hand across his shoulder when she passes by him and write it off as just being tactile (because she’s not and she hasn’t been fooling anyone when she makes that excuse and she knows it). </p><p>They have to do something about it. <em> Castille </em> has to do something about it, because usually she could trust Maelgwyn to take the lead on anything but she isn’t sure she can trust him to take the lead on this.</p><p>“Dance with me?” Castille whispers, without looking away. </p><p>Maelgwyn nods. Without breaking eye contact, Castille stands - and he stands with her. They’re in sync, somehow. </p><p>She offers him her hand. </p><p>He takes it. </p><p>It takes a moment for them to really settle into a position. For a second, they just hold hands and look at each other, uncertain. (Or at least Castille’s uncertain, anyway. She knows that Maelgwyn, under any normal circumstance, would fervently deny being uncertain about anything. Confidence alive, and all.) But then his other hand strays down to her side, coming to rest on the curve of her waist, and Castille follows his lead, placing her free hand on his shoulder. Every movement feels like they’re moving through water, submerged and slow, and Castille wouldn’t have it any other way. </p><p>She has slow danced before. She’d done it with Rebecca a couple times, in college, although slow dancing in her dorm room tipsy off low-grade vodka wasn’t exactly the most romantic thing in the world. (Even though it had felt romantic, maybe. Because of the vodka.) (Then again, slow dancing in an elevator isn’t exactly romantic either.) Hell, she’s slow danced <em> with Maelgwyn </em> before. Senior prom, she and Maelgwyn and Smoulder and Garner and all the others had gone as friends and didn’t want to hang awkwardly on the sides of the room during slow songs, and they’d all taken turns with each other. But it’s been five years since then, and in those five years Castille and Maelgwyn went their separate ways and forgot about each other until Aubrey of all people reconnected them last year. And five years ago there hadn’t been… <em> this </em> between them. They’ve been dancing around… whatever it is this is for the entire year since meeting again, this new magnetism.</p><p>Now they’re not dancing around it. They’re dancing in it. Dancing with it. </p><p>“Castille.”</p><p>“Mm?”</p><p>“Are all of the songs on this playlist about dancing?”</p><p>She realizes that the song has changed again. Some Carly Rae Jepsen something. Castille reaches back to grab her phone from its precarious balance on the elevator rail and opens Spotify and yeah, she'd searched “dance” and clicked on the first thing to come up and that thing had been a playlist entirely composed of songs with the word dance in the title. “Yeah,” she laughs, sliding her phone into her too-small how-does-her-phone-even-fit-in-there-really jacket pocket and then returning her hand to Maelgwyn’s shoulder. </p><p>Funny, that. She'd been trying so hard to get him to dance and somehow she’d picked the most topical playlist for that. Castille laughs again and - this time she leans into Maelgwyn as she does so, letting her cheek come to rest against his collarbone. She likes the way her laugh sounds there, absorbed by him. </p><p>This close she can hear his heartbeat. </p><p>Of course it’s the moment she locks in on the sound, though, that there’s a loud bang from the elevator doors. They jump apart.</p><p>“What the hell-” Castille whispers. </p><p>That’s when the doors are pried open. Just a crack, but they open. Oh. Castille rushes to put her shoes back on and pick up her empty coffee cup from the floor. Maelgwyn, likewise, gathers up his laptop and his manila folders and his own coffee, neglected and probably room-temperature by now. </p><p>As the doors are pushed open, wider and wider, all Castille can think is that she doesn’t want this to end. It’s like the scene in The Breakfast Club where the characters ask each other what happens when they go back to school on Monday - does everything go back to normal? Or does their experience change them? </p><p>They can’t keep ignoring this any longer. Castille won’t let it. </p><p>Anyway, that’s what she thinks about as Maelgwyn hops the two feet down to the first floor and as she follows, sticking the landing despite her heels and skirt, and runs after him to the stairwell. It’s in the back end of the building, so people rarely use it, but if the elevator is broken… well, he has to get up there, so they don’t have any other choice. </p><p>“We’re going to have a talk about what happened in the elevator,” she hisses as they race up the stairs. She keeps pace with him fine - one of Castille’s many skills is her ability to run in heels. “When you’re done this meeting. You and me, my apartment, we are talking about this.”</p><p>“We should,” he confirms. “We will.”</p><p>They reach the second-highest floor, where the meetings are held. Castille’s legs ache, but she holds back the urge to stop and catch her breath. Maelgwyn speeds up as they head down the hallway. Even when he gets to the door, he doesn’t stop, just reaches for the door handle in one fluid motion, swings it open, moves to go in. But he looks back at her, if only for a moment. </p><p>“Good luck,” she starts to say, as he crosses the threshold. </p><p>The door shuts behind him before she can finish. </p><p>Castille smiles.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yes the six are that friend group who have a discord server yes the hitchcocks switch which one of them is thing one and thing two all the time. can you tell i used to write a lot of chatfic? can you tell i had to give myself a reason to stop writing the group chat before i got carried away? yeah</p><p>sry for the inconsistent characterization and for making maelgwyn kind of an asshole i wrote this fic in two halves and then had to figure out how to get them from point a to point b and i almost didn't get there its fine. its Fine</p><p>watch my descent further into this fandom on tumblr at <a href="https://deep-hearts-core.tumblr.com/">deep-hearts-core</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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